The Final Battle
by Pinnacle of Madness
Summary: A series of oneshots depicting what certain characters are doing before, during, and after the Final Battle. Not a particularly happy series.
1. Fear

"Draco," called out a man with long, silvery-blonde hair.

A slightly identical young man looked up from the mark on his left forearm. "Yes, father?" he asked.

Lucius Malfoy didn't respond, choosing instead to continue staring at his son from the doorway of one of the many libraries in Lord Voldemort's hideout.

_My dear Draco_, he thought, _why can't you realize what will happen to you?_

After standing in the doorway for a few minutes, Lucius moved to stand behind his son who had turned back to the tattoo on his arm when it became obvious his father would answer at his own leisure.

Lucius had to admit, he was scared for himself and his son. He wasn't completely sure what brought this feeling on, but it was there and he had tried everything to get rid of it. He couldn't be worried about Draco during the final battle! It would distract him!

Draco sighed.

"The final battle's coming, isn't it?" Draco finally said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I can feel it, too," replied Lucius. "It's obvious even without our Lord dropping hints about the Potter boy's demise."

Draco twitched.

Lucius sighed.

"Draco," he began, hesitating. "Draco... Draco, I'm scared for you."

Draco turned to look at him.

"Why, father? You've always told me to suck it up and do it every time I complain."

Lucius suddenly put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I think it's because... because I knew you could do all that. I knew you could do all those things and so I wasn't worried. But this, Draco, this is the _final battle_. And no one, not even our Lord, knows what will come of this. Sure, we can all claim to be confident that we will survive and that our leader, depending on which side we're on, will reign supreme and that we will survive and prevail because our side is right, _but nobody knows for sure_."

Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder as Draco nodded.

"But, father, I know what the outcome will be."

Lucius looked down at his sone in surprise. "What do you mean, Draco?"

Draco averted his eyes to glance absently at the book-lined shelves crammed into the library. "You are right in the idea that they all claim they know what will happen. But man-kind is full of ignorant fools. They don't feel what I do." Draco turned to look Lucius straight in the eyes once more. "We're all going to die, father."

Lucius's grip tightened even further.

"We're all going to die. Even the Dark Lord. Potter will be the only one to survive. Him and maybe whomever else can feel what I can. Father, you are right, but you are also wrong." He paused. "No matter what any Death Eater claims, the Dark Lord is a fool."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Lucius sighed.

"Much as I don't like it, I suppose you are right. But, Draco, how do you know Potter isn't also a fool?"

Draco shrugged. "It was the way he looked at me the last time I saw him."

"But, Draco, that was over a year ago! Do you mean to say the way he looked at you has been stuck in your head for over a year?"

"Not exactly... Father, I just _know_ these things. Don't ask me to explain how. I just do."

Lucius closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look at Draco. "I suppose you're right, my son. I suppose we will all die."

They both bit back a pained hiss as their Dark Marks burned black.

"I suppose it's time to go," Draco said, his teeth still slightly clenched.

"I suppose so," agreed Lucius, pulling his hood up as Draco did the same.

Together, they made their way down to the meeting room. Before they entered, Lucius motioned for Draco to stop.

They gazed at each other for a few moments before Lucius pulled Draco into a hug, surprising them both.

"I'm sorry, my son," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Draco simply smiled. And with that, they both walked into the room and followed the others onto the battlefield where they both were to meet their fates. In the midst of the fight, no one heard the whisper that followed the murder of Lucius Malfoy.

_"I know, father. I know."_


	2. Run

Luna Lovegood sighed as she walked along the fifth floor corridor. He had told her to meet him in the Room of Requirement. But, why? Why would he call her there of all people?

She shook her head of such thoughts and began to hum nothing in particular while she walked up the stairs to the sixth floor. It was none of her business at the moment what his intentions were, for she was sure to find out soon enough.

After walking for another ten minutes or so she reached the Room of Requirement and walked past it three times. As per usual, a door appeared.

Luna knocked.

"Come in!" she heared a voice from whithin say.

She walked into the room, quietly closed the door behind her, then survayed the room's current state.

It had been obviously set up for comfort, for the room was small with calm blue walls and puffy purple couches and chairs. In the south wall burned a nice, warm fire that lit up the whole room without being too bright. The whole north wall was covered in books.

Ignoring all this, Luna sought out the reason she was there: Harry.

He was sitting on a chair to the left of the fire, simply staring into the depths of said source of heat. A serene look of calmness almost never seen anymore these days rested upon his face as the flames reflected in his eyes, making Luna's curiosity double.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a chair across from his own. She sat.

Silence surrounded them for a brief moment.

"Why am I here?" Luna finally asked him, her usual dreamy look absent.

"Because I have a request to make of you," Harry sighed, turning his gaze from the fire to look directly into her eyes.

"And what would this request be?" she asked.

"Have you time to spare?"

"I'm not expected anywhere for hours yet."

"Plenty of time to explain," he assured them both. "By the time you're expected anywhere, you will either have already fulfilled my request, or you'll be dead."

Her gaze turned even more serious. "Explain."

The fire cracked.

"I know you feel it."

She blinked.

"You mean you feel it, too?" she questioned. "You never struck me as the type."

Harry nodded. "I just couldn't understand it until recently. But something is definately coming. It's only a matter of time before it arrives. Under an hour, I believe."

She nodded. "Under an hour. But that still hasn't answered my original question."

"I know," he replied. "Luna, why do people call you 'Loony Lovegood?'"

She blinked.

"Because they don't see what is truly there. They refuse to acknowledge the existance of creatures they don't want to believe are there."

"In other words, they insult you because they are blind fools and you are not," he said. "And though their refusal to acknowledge the existance of Wrackspurts and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks will not bring their downfall, the ignorance of their ignorance will."

The look of calmness faded away.

"The final battle is coming in less than an hour, Luna," Harry said seriously, breaking the eye contact to look into the fire once again. "And unless they acknowledge their ignorance, they will all die."

"They?"

"Everyone who fights and some who don't."

"Even Hermione?"

"Especially Hermione. I'd say the same for Ron if he hadn't been killed six months ago."

Luna gazed at him with confusion. "What do you wish for me to do? Tell everyone? You know they'll never believe it."

Harry sighed. "Which is why I'm not asking you to risk everything to stay here and tell them." He looked her directly in the eyes. "I'm asking you to run."

She frowed at him. "But-"

"If you go out there, you will die; not because of your ignorance, but because of theirs. It is because of their ignorance that this battle is approaching in the first place. Your life would be better served saving others from similar fates over the course of the next few decades instead of wasting away an hour or so from now at the hands of someone else's ignorance to the world around them. Maybe not everyone who participates in the fight will die because not all of them are ignorant, but even those who know the truth could be killed in the fight, as you will be if you stay."

_But... I still want to help._

Harry's gaze intensified as he stood up, walked over to her, and kneeled down in front of her chair. "Please, Luna. The battle is almost here. It's just a stone's throw away. Please promise me that you'll run away."

They both knew her resolve was crumbling. They both knew he spoke the truth.

"Promise me that when the fight begins, when the first curse is flung, you'll run. Promise me you'll run and you won't look back. You can't look back. Keep running until you can't run anymore. Then rest and start running again. Just keep running until you know you're safe and far away. Then live your life. Don't dwell on the past or beat yourself up over the future. The past cannot be changed and the future is uncertain; focus on the present. Please, _run and don't look back._"

She nodded.

Harry sighed. "Thank you, Luna."

"But what about you, Harry?"

Harry thought.

"If I die, you'll still be safe. If I live, I'll be one of the last ones standing. Either way, it doesn't concern you. Just do as I requested, that's your only job."

BOOM

An explotion shook the castle to its foundation. McGonagall's voice boomed through that magical microphone of hers, echoing through the halls as she requested all those of fifth year and up to immidiately make their ways to the grounds in front of the school and fourth year and below go to the Great Hall to be barricaded in.

Harry and Luna, being in seventh and sixth year respectively, did as told and followed the rush of students to the grounds. The sight that befell their eyes was Death Eaters steadily breaking through the gates surrounding the school.

BOOM

Half the students fell to their knees as the second explotion shook the ground beneath them. Not long after they were all once again upright, aurors began to arrive, shooting spells at the Death Eaters through the gates and doing their best to prevent said force from breaking through. Their efforts were futile as the main gate collapsed and the black cloaked figured began to pour into the grounds, already shooting down students and aurors alike yet being shot down themselves.

Harry grabbed Luna in a hug from behind and held her tightly for a few seconds before whispering one word in her ear.

"Run."

She did.  



	3. Redemption

Severus Snape shook nervously as the Death Eaters crowded around the portkeys that would take them within a mile of the Hogwarts grounds. Yes, he was shaking nervously. Imagine that: Severus Snape was afraid of something.

He let loose a laugh of irony that went unnoticed among the insane cackling of those such as Bellatrix Lestrange. Imagine what the Order would say, or better yet, the Marauders.

Yes, those damn Marauders still haunted him, even if only one was truly left. Maybe it had something to do with their children. Yes, their children did a wonderful job of haunting him, Potter more so than the other.

Oh, great. He was getting distracted again. Right, the Final Battle was almost better. Need to try and stay focused.

Which brought him back to why he was shaking from nervousness. He wasn't sure what to do. Contrary to the beliefs of both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, Severus Snape was completely neutral. He had no side he was all for. Both sides had their pros and cons and neither had captured his complete fancy.

But then there was the question of which side would win. For which side should he finally choose to offer his service and alliance? Damn it, if it were up to him, there never would have been a war in the first place, and he would have been able to live out his life in contentment as a respected Potions Master. Too late for that now, though. This damn war had ruined all that. Both sides had a good chance of winning, and his life would depend on what he chose, assuming he survived the battle itself.

They were almost there. The front gates were in sight. He would have to choose soon.

What would he choose? If he chose to fight for the Order and the Death Eaters won, he would no doubt be tortured long before death. If the Order won, he would receive little honor. It would always be that way. If he chose the Dark Lord's side and they won, he'd be given quite a bit of honor and live under fewer rules.

But what if the order won? Would he be able to stand their looks of disappointment and betrayal? Could he live through Albus's lectures and looks of sadness?

The first curse was flung. His time was up.

He had made his choice.

With his last resolve, Severus Snape raised his wand to a figure just beyond his arms' reach away.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

His redemption was offered.


	4. Death

As she dodged a Cruciatus curse, Hermione wondered how it had all come to this.

She was trapped in a battle where no one side was winning with a vicious Death Eater attacking her. Honestly, all he'd been doing was sending Unforgivable Curses at her! You'd think even a Death Eater would be able to think up something more creative.

Silently cursing, Hermione once again asked herself how this all had happened. She was going to die being brought down by these dimwits!

Yes, she admitted to herself, she _had_ eavesdropped on Harry and Luna. Really, could they be any less subtle? And she's seen Luna run off, too! Merlin, but you'd think Harry would trust her more!

Hermione sighed as she shot a curse at a stray Death Eater she suspected to be Pansy Parkinson. But, from what she had heard, they did have a point. To be honest with herself, she had actually been beginning to suspect for some time now. I mean, she'd seen Luna's grades. The girl was brilliant! And it all did make sense. She smiled ruefully. Ignorant, eh? Yes, it did all make sense.

She sighed inwardly as she dodged a cutting hex and sent one right back at the unusually short figure in black robes. But, still it was such a shame. She was so used to knowing it all, but here they were both talking in ways she could hardly understand! It was infuriating! It was ghastly! It was against nature! It was impossible! It was...

...regretfully undeniable.

Hermione let a tear slip from her eye as she shot off two more curses, only to have her right arm shattered by a bone-breaking curse. She winced and quickly swapped her wand to her left hand before continuing to fire off hexes with less accuracy that before.

Yes, she supposed they were right. She was going to die.

Two more tears slipped out, only to be wiped away furiously before she shot off three curses in quick succession.

For some strange reason, death didn't bother her as it might and probably should. She thought about it as she reflexively dodged more Unforgivables.

It wasn't until two hours later, when she was brought down by another bone-breaker to the leg, that she understood.

She wasn't just going to die. She was _meant_ to die. She was meant to die protecting Harry, Luna, and anyone else who was destined to die. Even though she had never before believed in destiny, she now knew what hers was.

From her spot on the ground, she continued to fire off as many curses as she could as quickly as she could, taking down as many Death Eaters as possible. She never once acknowledged the dark figure that loomed over her as she did this, pointing his wand directly at her with a smirk on his face.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

She smiled.


	5. The Last Ones Standing

_pit pat pit pat_

The raindrops fell heavily to Earth, telling a sad story as they fell.

_pit pat pit pat_

Dark clouds loomed overhead, using the raindrops as their messangers to describe the bloodshed they had just witnessed.

_pit pat pit pat_

A scent of gloom lingered in the air, almost overpowered by that of blood and death, so thick that you could easily taste it.

Then, through the gloom flew a red and gold pheonix, singing its last lament to those who had fallen.

The bedraggled-looking bird flew once more overhead before disappearing into the night, watched by two figures standing alone among the graveyard that Hogwarts had become.

_pit pat pit pat_

Through the rain and gloom, everything stood still.

Until one of the figures moved.

_pit pat pit pat_

The young man with blonde hair dressed in Death Eaters' garb closed in on the raven-haired teen sitting on his trunk in the middle of everything, a white owl by his side.

The blonde smirked.

"Why you still here, Potter?" he asked in his usual taunting voice. "Why haven't you done the_ honerable_, idiotic, Gryffindorish thing and commited suicide, just so you can be reunited with your _loved ones?_"

The teen stared purposely ahead, still dressed in his school uniform.

"Owl got your tongue, Potter?"

The emerald-eyed teen shook his head.

"Why would it matter?" he whispered to the blonde quietly, yet still loud enough to be heard over the downpour that surrounded them.

_pit pat pit pat_

The blonde scowled. "Are you playing games with me, Potter?"

The young man with the Gryffindor crest smiled.

"Life is a precious thing," he responded. "So common yet so easily taken away. Once your one chance is taken, you never have another shot at it. Why destroy one of the few things I have left just so that I can see them a few decades sooner? No, they can wait."

A moment of silence passed between them, akward but not unwelcome.

Malfoy glared at him before asking, "Why don't you kill me, Potter? Why don't you kill the last Death Eater standing, if just to finish the job for good?"

He turned on his seat to look Malfoy straight in the eyes.

"Why don't _you_ kill _me_? I killed your master, didn't I?"

Malfoy looked taken aback for a moment.

_Why don't I kill him?_ he asked himself. _He's sitting right there, just watching me. His wand is clearly on the ground beside him yet mine is in my hand. I could easily kill him. But..._

_...why don't I?_

Draco considered for a moment longer, trying not to shiver at the intensity of the cold emerald eyes staring at him, waiting for him to respond.

_It can't be because I feel any remorse for him. I've lost just as much as he has, perhaps more. If I were to pity him I would have to pity myself, and I do NOT self-pity._ Malfoy cast another look at his surroundings. _Maybe..._

"...Maybe neither of us kill the other because we are the only ones left," Harry finished his thought. "Maybe because neither of us wish to be alone in this cold, dark world."

"But there are others, Potter," rebutted Malfoy. "There are others out there who would be more than happy to take in the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Sure, there's nothing but muggles left in England, but there are plenty of wizards in other countries. You'd live in comfort for the rest of your life if you went to one of them, even if you were broke. Why me?"

To Draco's surprise, Harry threw back his head in a haunted laugh.

"Of all the years we've known each other, Malfoy," he said, "has it truly taken you this long to figure out I despise fame and politics?"

Malfoy stood still.

"Besides, there would be no familiarity in it all. But you, Malfoy, you are familiar. I've known you for seven years. Much as I want to run from my past, my memories, and just forget everything, I can't bring myself to kill off the only reminder of my past; of what I once had. And you, Malfoy, you choose to keep me alive for the exact same reason, don't you?"

Malfoy scowled and leveled his wand with Harry's forehead, in the exact same spot his scar would continue to rest for all eternity.

"I could just kill you now, Potter," he spat.

Harry smiled.

_"But you won't."_

They stood there for a long time, not moving except to breathe. The rain had at that point soaked them to the skin, the dark sky overhead letting in no sun to warm or dry them. Perhaps seconds, minutes, or hours passed before the stillness was broken. Exactly how much time passed, no being will ever know. All we know is that the stillness was broken by Malfoy letting his arm drop, his wand fall to the ground beside Harry's, and began laughing.

"You're right, Potter," Malfoy gasped out hysterically. "I can't kill you! I won't kill you."

Harry smiled at him again.

"You and I are two of a kind, Malfoy," he whispered. "The last ones standing in this god-forsaken spit of politically-trashed land, surrounded by nothing but ghosts and memories."

Malfoy smiled ironically. "Indeed," he agreed.

Still smiling, Harry stood up, shrunk his trunk to put it in his soaked robe pocket, then beckoned Hedwig to perch on his shoulder.

"Potter?" Malfoy inquired, gazing absent-mindedly at the spot on his left arm where the Dark Mark once stood.

"Mm?"

Draco faltered.

"If- If we had perhaps been born to different families, or at the very least been sorted into the same house, do you think we might have been friends?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating the question he wasn't sure if he had known was coming. _Would we have been friends...?_

"Maybe," he finally admitted. "It all depends on the circumstances."

"Hm."

And with that, they began their journey. To where, neither of them knew.

"I still hate you Potter," Malfoy mentioned offhandishly as they exited the gates surrounding Hogwarts.

"And I you," replied Harry, still smiling. "But we're the last ones standing."

And so they walked away into the murky depths of the air surrounding them, letting this one last lesson Hogwarts has to offer sink in; allowing themselves to understand one more thing.

Even the survivors eventually fall.

_pit pat pit pat_


End file.
